


king of hearts

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, F/M, Poker, Slight hints of FrUK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis takes his chances at poker against the powerful Ciel Blanc, and gambles his luck of romancing her.</p><p>Alternatively titled, Luck is a Lady Tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	king of hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [homostuck-is-why-i](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=homostuck-is-why-i).



Ciel Blanc was known to be the queen of gambling; a force to be reckoned with. Francis had heard the rumors of how fantastic she was at poker (and other games of chance too) -- she had an unshakable poker face, only offering a coy, knowing smile when analyzing her adversaries. It was incredible how she managed to never show emotion, no matter the circumstances or pressure she was under. Losses were usually unheard of for Miss Blanc -- utilizing strategy and intelligence, she knew how to play her cards just right. Luck was always on her side; some say she’s the embodiment of the good Lady Luck herself.  
  
It sounded quite promising.  
  
Francis, you see, enjoyed thrills. He didn’t live for them, but chose to fancy them instead, much like how one would fancy a lovely, aged bottle of red wine. He was a master of love -- self-proclaimed, of course, but that didn’t mean anything less. Seduction was naturally in his acquired skill-set; he made good use of his charms and beauty every chance he had. What Francis considered a thrill was flirting with a highly desirable and coveted target by many -- and being successful. Easily called a player by both friends and enemies, Francis didn’t really care. He’d grown used to all the insults and derogatory remarks for spreading his love and romantic affections for others; however, one accusation he would not tolerate was “cheater”.  
  
He had never done any such thing in his life. He was overflowing with love for others, yes, but he does not cheat. Adultery was unsavory, ungentlemanly, and just plain rude. If Francis wanted to be involved with multiple people at once, he was open to the notion of polyamory if all parties consented; of course, that did not usually happen.   
  
But we digress. This is about the notoriously known lover Francis Bonnefoy and his quest to woo the infamous gambler Ciel Blanc -- those other tales may be saved for another time.   
  
The casino was also infamously known -- the Quadrants was its nickname. Intriguing, but the origin didn’t matter. It was large, incredibly so, and always populated with all sorts of people. Some were alcoholics and savored their time at the bar, some addicted to the games and gambled their life savings away. Many dwelled at the Quadrants for the party life -- everything was so bright with fluorescent colors, the music fresh and loud, and enough booze to get the entire world intoxicated ten times over. Francis was sure the owners of the place were rolling in the dough, laughing at how incredibly ingenious their entire scheme was.  
  
The night was still young, and there was plenty of time to be wasted. Wallet filled with copious amounts of cash, Francis had a ridiculous amount of money to spend. Just another perk of being the son of a rich man; it was one of the times he actually appreciated it.   
  
He approached the bar, not taking a seat but instead leaning on it and winked at the bartender. The bartender, who had horrendously thick eyebrows which scrunched up at the non-vocalized greeting, scowled at him in turn.   
  
“I’m not interested,” the bartender said, cooly. A British accent was evident in his harsh voice and Francis immediately felt both enamored and repulsed.  
  
“Who said I was?” hummed Francis in response. The bartender narrowed his green eyes, scrutinizing him, and sighed.  
  
“Your body language. Now what can I get for you?”   
  
“Two glasses of your finest wine, darling. S'il vous plaît et merci.” He glanced around, studying the lighting. It was fairly dim near the bar, but all the individual tables were lit well. It was most certainly a nice place, well-furnished and organized. The space was commodious, not too crowded -- but not appearing empty either.   
  
The bartender turned to fill his order, muttering “Jesus Christ, this place doesn’t pay enough” and Francis admired his ass while he waited. He had a very nice one, and if all else failed with Miss Blanc, he may or may not return to try his luck.  
  
“Here.” The glasses were placed curtly in front of him, and Francis tipped generously. It wasn’t because of the Brit’s comment, but motivated by the fact how he highly dislikes appearing to be cheap. Francis lived a lavish, opulent life, and was the type of man who enjoyed displaying it for all to see.  
  
Carrying the glasses with practiced ease, he left the bar and headed towards Miss Blanc’s table. It was surrounded by only a few people milling around, surprisingly; Francis would have expected more to be observing. There was a challenger sitting across from Ciel, and Francis could see he was sweating nervously. He obviously wasn’t practiced in this, and it was clear for anybody to see that he stood no chance.  
  
“Are you sure you don’t want to fold?” asked Ciel, amusedly. She was the epitome of calm and collected, glasses perched neatly on her nose. Clear blue eyes surveyed her opponent, calculating. But she was polite, ladylike in her subtle actions, not demonstrating any boredom or condescendation. “It may be better if you quit while you’re ahead.”  
  
“Never! I refuse to lose!” The man angrily responded, throwing in some more chips. It was a rash move, impulsive, and Francis quirked an eyebrow as he watched. The words held a hint of manipulation in them, driving to serve the purpose of pushing an already weakened opponent to bring him even closer to his downfall -- and to losing all of his money. Perhaps she wasn’t as innocent as she seemed, Francis mused to himself. But then again, it was only to be expected; she was a champion poker player for a reason.   
  
Ciel continued to raise the stakes, and Francis eyed the cards on the table. There was a 5 of Spades, Queen of Hearts, Jack of Spades, a 3 of Spades, and now a 6 of Spades. Peering over the man’s shoulder, Francis saw a 4 of Hearts and a 7 of Diamonds. He had a flush; it was better than decent, and Francis wondered if Ciel was bluffing. Though it wasn’t incomprehensible if Ciel had a 4 and 7 or 2 of any suit herself; the chances were fair.   
  
The man bet as much as Ciel did, and it was time to reveal their hand. He threw down his cards, triumphant. “Ha! A straight!”  
  
But Ciel merely smiled, and laid her hand down for all to see. Sure enough, as Francis expected, it was a 2 and 4. But not just any 2 and 4; the 2 and 4 of Spades. “A straight flush. Thank you for playing.”  
  
Francis couldn’t see the man’s face, but he was sure it was plastered with disbelief. As Ciel collected the chips and neatly organized them, the man left the table and fled quickly.   
  
This was his chance. He took the previously occupied seat, and offered his best charming smile. He set down one of the glasses in front of her, and the other he kept for himself. “Good evening, darling.”  
  
When she looked at him for the first time, her face didn’t betray any emotion. Not even her eyes sparked with recognition. There was no sign of attraction, surprise, or happiness. It was honestly a little unnerving, and he was unused to it -- he was in complete white, unable to tell what she was thinking of his appearance. Francis didn’t like it, but he’d just have to grin and bear with it. This was what was going to make it a challenge, after all.  
  
“Good evening,” Ciel returned, glancing at the wine. She picked it up delicately, and took a sip. “How thoughtful. Thank you.”  
  
“Mm, you are welcome. Now,” said Francis, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the table, “I would like to play a game with you.”  
  
“Doesn’t everybody?” She laughed, a wonderful sound Francis cherished while it lasted. He wished to be able to have the chance to hear that sound more -- it only further motivated Francis to keep his resolve of wooing the lovely Miss Blanc. She began to shuffle the cards in an intricate, fanciful way; something that was meant to intimidate her opponents in a flashy, alluring style. Clever. “I am ready when you are.”

“Let us begin.”

* * *

His loss was not too painful; at least, it was not nearly as bad as the man before him. His glass was half-emptied when she laid her hand down -- a three of a kind. Francis sadly looked on at his pair, and sighed, but remained smiling.

“My, that was quite an invigorating game. Congratulations, Madame Blanc. Might I try another?”  
  
Ciel laughed again, a sound that resounded with entertainment. She took more sips of her wine, fully appreciating its flavor, and gathered up the cards and chips once more. “I don’t see why not.”  
  
“I will do better this time,” Francis promised.

* * *

Francis ended up folding. All he had was a high card, and there was no way he would be able to win. Francis knew his limits; he wasn’t going to try running away from the inevitable. It was much less painful this way, and he accepted his defeat with open arms.

“Another go?” questioned Ciel, finishing her glass. Francis drank some of his own and chuckled as he set it down on the table with a muffled thud.  
  
“Mm, why not?”  
  
“Very good. But,” she continued, eyes finally sparking with a little mischief as she took the compiled the cards into a neat deck, “I have a proposal, if you’re interested.”  
  
“Oh?” Francis was pleased with how this was progressing so far. “Do tell.”  
  
“Your name is Francis Bonnefoy, correct?” Ciel smiled, drinking in the surprise on his face and began shuffling the deck with the same eye-pleasing maneuver as before. “I’ll assume by your reaction I’m right. I recognized you when you originally came to watch my previous game. You have a rather memorable face.”  
  
“Is that so?” He laughed, not at all minding that he was recognized, and he ran his fingers through his hair. “I should’ve known. You’re also well-respected for your intellect and wide-spread knowledge for a reason.”  
  
“You flatter me! I have also heard you are quite the romantic, are you not?”  
  
“You say the truth,” he confirmed, puzzled. “But I have to wonder -- where are you going with this?”  
  
“Well,” she leaned forward, propping her elbows up on the table and resting her chin on her hands. Her eyes peering over her glasses gave her a devious sort of appearance. “How about we make a bet of love?”  
  
Francis took a moment to wipe the surprise of his face and recompose himself, eyeing Ciel warily, but with undenied piqued interest. What on Earth could she mean? Bet love? The notion was ridiculous -- but did it mean she was interested in him? Or was she simply curious? Was it a test of some sort? That seemed plausible, considering what she appeared to have heard about him. There were so many questions, Francis couldn’t begin to even think of the answers. He raised an eyebrow delicately, not breaking eye contact. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Just what it sounds like. Instead of betting some materialistic, we’ll bet a form of love.” Ciel’s eyes gleamed through her spectacles, and she simpered. “What do you say?”  
  
“I would like to know specifically how you would bet such a thing,” he said, cautious. He didn’t want to make the wrong move, so it would be best to remain neutral for now.  
  
“Hmm, well,” Ciel began, sounding as if she were both thinking and as if she had already thought this carefully through, “let’s say this: if you win, I’ll go on a date with you.”  
  
There must be some sort of catch. “And if I lose?”  
  
“If you lose, then no flirting for a month. I’ve heard the rumors,” said she, coy as he started, a bit taken aback. “You’re a bit of a player. I must say, I’m quite interested to see what you’re willing to gamble in regards to love.”  
  
Francis studied her. Her smile was knowing, tempting, and daring him to agree. It was an interesting bet for sure, but it went against his beliefs of romance. He may be blowing his chances with his response -- regardless, he was a man who would stand firm and wouldn’t be swayed. And with Ciel’s luck, it was very, very likely she would win. Again, this brought him back to the conclusion this was just a test of some sort. She was a sly, intelligent woman who held all the aces up her sleeves, and Francis couldn’t possibly begin to try and trump her. The bet was enticing, holding a risk for thrill-seekers such as himself. But then again; Francis was a man who fancied thrills, and nothing more.  
  
“My apologies, darling,” Francis finally spoke, cerulean eyes firm. He made his decision. Test or not, he would hold true to his romanticized view of the beautiful world they lived in. “I believe love is not something you can bet. It is one of the more alluring mysteries of the world that everyone covets. It requires patience, you see, although no one is ever willing to wait. If we made a bet and even if I did win and you agreed to go on a date with me, it would be meaningless, yes? Poker is a game of chance, of luck. I, for one, am not willing to risk love. Money, indeed, but love is entirely another matter.”  
  
Ciel was quiet for a moment. He held his breath, awaiting her response. She watched him, analyzing his monologue, and beamed. She began applauding him, clapping her hands rhythmically, and it only lasted a few moments before ceasing. It was an unexpected reaction, although not entirely so, and Francis was once again brought to his conclusion it was only a test. “Wonderful. You’ve flawlessly exceeded my expectations, Mr. Bonnefoy. I’m impressed.”  
  
He could only return the smile, drinking the last of his wine. It was good, having a strong scent, but the taste was a bit weak. He would admit he was disappointed this was the best wine the Quadrants had to offer. He had had much better in his lifetime. “Thank you. A quaint test you have there. Do you use it often?”  
  
“Only when I deem my opponent worthy,” she said, slyly. Francis was able to recognize when he was being flirted with, being adept at the skill himself, and he was contentedly surprised. “Shall we go another?”  
  
“Will we be betting normally?” He joked, and was pleased when she chuckled.   
  
“Yes. But,” Ciel began to deal the cards out, eyes never leaving his own, “to make it more amusing, if you still win, then I will go on a date with you.”   
  
“Hmm. I hope this is not yet another test.”  
  
“I promise it’s not.”  
  
“Very well, if you offer the conditions on your own accord, who am I to say no?” Francis agreed.

* * *

He lost yet again. It wasn’t surprising -- Ciel was too powerful, and she just couldn’t be beat. But it was a narrow win; she won with a pair of queens, while he had possessed a pair of tens. It was the closest he had gotten so far, and he had decided to take his chances and not fold this time. 

“Good game,” Francis congratulated her, humming. “Thank you.”  
  
“No, I should be thanking you. I thoroughly enjoyed myself,” she was already shuffling the cards again; it must be a natural habit of hers, as natural as breathing. “Now about that date.”  
  
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, not expecting this. It was certainly a twist, but he didn’t mind if this was genuinely leading to a date with the infamous Ciel Blanc. “Even though I lost?”  
  
“Of course,” Ciel smiled, and Francis felt his heartbeat pick up at how beautiful it was. “You’re quite fascinating. I wouldn’t mind spending some more time with you, Mr. Bonnefoy.”   
  
“Now who is the charmer?” Francis asked rhetorically, and felt his lips tugging up to return the pleased expression. “It would truly be an honor. Dinner, Friday night, at seven?”  
  
“Perfect. I’ll see you then. Thank you for playing.”  
  
And with that, she disappeared into the crowd of people, vanishing from sight. She was much shorter than he had expected, standing at only approximately five feet, but no less lovely. The cards and poker chips were gone with her, save for a King of Hearts left next to the empty wine glass.   
  
Francis took the card, and pocketed it with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> For the Rare and Under-Appreciated Ship Exchange on Tumblr ( aphsecretsanta.tumblr.com ).
> 
> This is for homostuck-is-why-i.tumblr.com! Merry Christmas and happy holidays, Becca! <3 I hope you enjoyed! I was originally going to do Five Times Japan Died and the One Time He Didn't for South Italy/Japan, but unfortunately I lost the muse and suffered writer's block. Maybe I'll try again later.
> 
> Ciel Blanc is obviously my name for Monaco. I have seen many different names, but this is the name I selected for her. ^^


End file.
